Demanding His Billion-Dollar Heir

‘Nothing,’ she said, seemingly confused by his question. ‘I just wanted to let you know. You...have that right.’

He bit back a cynical laugh. He doubted the truth of her words very much. She might not be after his money or his ring, but there must be something. There was always something.

‘You waited three months?’ he said, accusingly, not having to work hard to do the maths. He’d known every single one of the days since he’d last touched her, kissed her, brought them both to orgasm.

She nodded. ‘The first three months are so...precarious,’ she said, shaking her head and shoulders, as if she hadn’t been alone to bear the weight of that knowledge, that fear that something could have happened, could have taken away their...their child.

The child he could see formed by light and dark in the small black and white sonogram on the table between them.

‘Did you think that I would try to change your mind? Is that why you waited?’ Not needing to work hard to find the fury at the possibility that she would think such a thing of him.

‘It wouldn’t have mattered. I’m keeping this baby, Matthieu, whether you want to be part of its life or not.’

‘I would never—’

‘How would I know that?’ she demanded. ‘I didn’t even know your last name.’

‘But you found out.’ The unspoken question in his mind rang loud, beating in time with his heart.

‘Only when I needed to.’ Her assurance, the promise offered by her words that she had not sought him out until she’d had to, melted the ire edging his anger, transforming it, lessening it—but only slightly. ‘Look, I respected what you said then about it only being one night,’ she pressed on. ‘I’m only here now to let you know, and to give you the chance to choose whether you would like to be in the baby’s life or not. Nothing more, nothing less.’

‘That simple?’ he asked, unconsciously echoing the conversation from that night.

‘I am beginning to see that where you are concerned, Matthieu, nothing is simple.’

He reached then for his water, not because he was thirsty, but to buy time. And he never had to buy time. He always knew what to say, how to react. Until now. Until her. He began to wonder if he ever had any choice in the matter at all. His body overriding all senses, all sensibilities.

Father.

He was going to be a father.

‘We will marry.’

The look on her face would have been comical in any other circumstance. The horror and shock overriding the fierce neutrality that she had presented in the last few moments.

‘No.’

That’s different. So many had tried to coerce themselves into his life, but of course Maria was different. He briefly wondered if this might have been part of some larger game, some grander scheme, but he decided not. There had been nothing about Maria then, or now, that indicated some ulterior motive. Wasn’t that what had driven him to her in the first place? Her innocence?

‘I don’t think you understand—’

‘No. It is you who doesn’t understand,’ Maria cut in. ‘That’s not why I came here. I have no intention of marrying you. I don’t want that, or your money. My only interest is the level of your involvement in my child’s—’

‘Our child’s,’ he said, interrupting her.

‘Our child’s life.’

‘And that is what I’m telling you, Maria. My interest will be deep, my level of involvement will be total.’

CHAPTER FOUR

MARIA FELT PULLED beneath a tide of emotion, some parts fear, some parts daunted, and all parts consuming. She hadn’t lied to him. She hadn’t come here to demand marriage, or anything more than maybe weekend visits. She hadn’t imagined that he’d even want that if she was honest. Certainly not after reading the hundreds of articles on the ‘notorious beast’. She hated herself for using that description even mentally. Because she knew why they had called him that. His scars had made him the subject of intense speculation, his wealth and almost cruel single-minded, driven success all the more so.

And now, to have all that focus pinned on her... She couldn’t help but want to shrink back from it. But she couldn’t. Not now that she had someone else to protect. Her unborn child. Her hands instinctively wrapped around her waist, his hawk-eyed gaze watching her every move.

‘Why?’ she couldn’t help but

ask. Everything about Matthieu screamed isolation. The way he did his business, the way he reportedly lived.